


To the New Year

by sweaterstiel



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, First Kiss, First Meetings, M/M, Teenlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-13
Updated: 2014-02-13
Packaged: 2018-01-12 04:58:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1182195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweaterstiel/pseuds/sweaterstiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The family New Year's party that John Watson and his family attend every year becomes less and less exciting the older John gets. Not knowing what to do with himself, John is feeling particularly bored this year - that is until he encounters a mysterious and intriguing boy by the name of Sherlock Holmes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To the New Year

John hadn’t wanted to go to the party in the first place. Sure it was labeled as a “family” party, but who were they kidding? It was most definitely for kids and no matter how much his parents would say otherwise, John was fifteen now and thus no longer a kid. But the Watsons had been coming for years and John hadn’t wanted to upset his mother so here he was, sitting at a table eating a cookie and sipping scalding hot (and moderately unpleasant tasting) apple cider while small elementary school children ran around him to play the games that had been set up. John’s mother was grinning though, wearing a ridiculous tiara that featured “2014” in large letters, so he couldn’t bring himself to feel that badly about it.

To his right a coloring book was ceremoniously placed on the table. John looked up and raised his eyebrows at his sister, Harry, who was looking rather triumphant.

“I cannot believe you’re actually playing those games,” he told her.

She scoffed. “Oh c’mon John! Don’t be such a party-pooper, just play one it’s _easy_!” Harry tugged at the sleeve of his jumper and motioned towards the game of ring toss that a kid around the age of seven was currently attempting.

“Yeah, and you why it’s so easy. _It’s meant for kids_. And I’m – no – _we’re_ certainly too old for it.” Both Harry and his mother frowned at him, yet John was insistent upon not making a fool of himself.

“Whatever,” Harry said and was off again to some other game. John checked his phone (again) as if it would reveal something new than the last time he looked at it about five minutes ago. No new messages. No internet connection. 10:30 pm.

“So we’re going to stay until midnight, yeah?” John asked his mother who was sitting across from him.

She smiled sweetly. “Yes of course dear. Just like every year.”

John sighed softly to himself. “Right then.”

“Oh John, why don’t you go play a game! That’s what you do at a party,” John’s mother suggested. “Have fun.”

“Mum, those games are for kids. Little kids,” John insisted.

“Harry’s playing them,” she said and raised her eyebrow at John. He groaned.

“Yeah well Harry’s…Harry.” His mother only continued to stare at him. “Look, maybe if there were other people here who are actually my age then I would.” John thought his argument was pretty valid, as players no older than ten occupied the games.

“There are other teens here, don’t worry!” his mother said reassuringly. John cringed a little at the use of the word ‘teens.’ His mother then turned her head around, scanning the many tables of various families that they had never met before and won’t likely meet again. She smiled to herself. “Three. No! Five.”

“What?” John questioned.

“There are five other teenagers here. I counted so you can’t argue.” She nearly smirked when she said this and John felt a surge of bitter defeat. “Go talk to someone, sweetie!”

John scowled and glanced around. He counted five teenage girls. Two were talking to each other and playing on their phones on the table behind him. They were wearing too much makeup and their tops were adorned with an absurd amount of rhinestones. John fought an urge to scrunch up his face in the thought of talking to either of them; they most definitely weren’t his type and chances were he wasn’t theirs either. That left the other three. They seemed relatively okay but seemed perfectly content just talking with each other and John didn’t want to interrupt. That and he didn’t really have a desire to socialize anyway.

“They’re all girls,” he told his mother who frowned in disappointment.

“Oh please! They’re at a party with a bunch of little children, I’m sure they’d love for a handsome young boy to go and talk to them.” She smiled at him sweetly but John just rolled his eyes.

“No mum, they really wouldn’t.”

She huffed a little and crossed her arms, once again surveying the room. “I saw another boy earlier, but I don’t know where he’s gone off too.”

John thought a moment at this. “Yeah, I think I saw him too. He was wearing a scarf….” John trailed off, surprising himself that he even remembered this feature about the boy.

“Yes, that one! Oh look…”

“What?”

“Well, he’s right over there.”

“Hm.”

“Go talk to him! Socialize John, it’ll be good for you.”

“Fine.”

John pushed out of his chair and moved towards the snack table where the boy with the scarf was currently hanging around. He brought the paper plate that he had picked up earlier so that he could easily pick up a cookie and leave if conversation failed.

“The apple cider’s rubbish, go for the hot chocolate,” John found himself saying to the boy. His back was turned away from John so that all John could see was a mess of curly dark brown hair.

“I’d like to find out for myself, thank you very-“ the boy cut off as he looked at John, having turned around to face him. He had dazzling eyes; John at first thought they were blue but they were much more, almost like the ocean. John caught himself staring and felt a flush of embarrassment, averting his eyes and rubbing at the back of his neck.

“I like your scarf,” John said to fill the silence, inwardly cursing at himself for sounding so stupid. The boy only continued looking at him, right in him, and damn if John didn’t get the sensation that he was being mentally undressed. It was slightly unnerving but…not exactly unwelcome. “It’s, um, nice. Yeah.”

“Thanks,” the boy said slowly as if confused that John would point out such a thing. “It’s quite functional seeing as it is rather cold outside, what with the snow and all, and-“ he stopped himself, appearing to be making some sort of mental correction. “Anyway. I like your…” he paused, clearly feeling obligated to return the compliment. John found it profoundly amusing and, surprising himself yet again, adorable. “Jumper,” he finally settled on, the end of his mouth quirking up in a hardly noticeable smile.

“I have about an entire closet full of them,” John replied at an attempt at some mild humor. The other boy smiled for just a second and rolled his eyes so John considered it a success. “My name’s John by the way, John Watson.”

“I’m Sherlock Holmes.” John chuckled and Sherlock glowered almost immediately. “What is it?”

“Your name.”

“Yes, what about it?”

“It sounds old.”

“Am I supposed to thank you?”

“No, it just sounds lovely- cool! It sounds cool.”

“Oh.” Sherlock grabbed his cup of apple cider and moved it to his lips, sipping in just a taste of the still hot liquid. John marveled at how the simple action seemed, to speak blatantly, so goddamn hot. As he lowered the cup, Sherlock wrinkled his nose in disgust. “You were right, this is rubbish.”

“People should listen to me more often. The world would be a better place.” John said this with a self-righteous smirk, not exactly sure where his confidence was drawing its power, but talking with Sherlock was easy.

“Perhaps,” Sherlock commented. “At least my taste buds would be better off.” John smiled and began to think that this party was turning out to be significantly less lame than he had perceived it to be mere minutes ago. But then Sherlock looked around the room and said, “I’ll be off now.” He threw his cup, still mostly full of apple cider, into the trash and turned towards the direction of the door.

“Hey, wait!” John called, and Sherlock simply smiled and waved before heading out the door. “Thinks he’s so fuckin’ mysterious,” John murmured under his breath. He sulked back to the table feeling somehow defeated. His mother just grinned widely, looking pleased with herself.

“What’d I tell ya John,” she began, “Looks like you had a nice conversation!”

“Yeah, and now I’m alone again so what was the point?” he grumbled. His mother looked a little hurt and John immediately felt bad – she was just trying to help.

“I’ll go and see how Harry’s doing,” she said pushing out of her chair and standing up. “You can just…stay here, I suppose.” She walked off and John considered following after her to apologize and thank her for trying but instead he checked his phone. No new messages. No internet connection. 10:34 pm. John sighed. It was going to be a long night.

 

 

John kept seeing Sherlock, he was sure of it. He would be spacing off when he’d notice a boy with dark curls and a blue scarf walk by. Every time he thought about getting up Sherlock would be gone - lost in the crowd (though it wasn’t fairly large and John trusted his abilities to be able to spot him if he was there) or simply not in the room but either way John had never really seen him disappear. He just wasn’t there anymore.

It was all very confusing, and frankly very irritating. As the night progressed John gave up on the thought that maybe he’d talk to Sherlock again. He sat and played games on his phone that became boring very rapidly, groaned when the DJ would play a particularly horrifying pop song, and watch on as his mother and Harry danced ridiculously with the other parents and a few of the kids. He smiled at that last part though. It was nice to see them enjoying themselves.

 

 

It was 11:57 pm and John had just lost his game of Temple Run - he questioned why he even still had that game on his phone - and the room began to get overly loud when he felt a hand tap on his shoulder. John nearly jumped at the contact and swiveled around in his chair, finding himself looking up at the lanky form of Sherlock Holmes.

“Where the bloody hell have you been?” John questioned, forced to yell a bit in order to be heard over the noise of the crowd.

Sherlock leaned down and yelled back, “Come outside, it’s too loud in here!” John nodded and followed Sherlock out the nearest door. The freezing snow-kissed air nipped at John’s body immediately, and he quickly pulled his arms in and hugged them tight around his chest. Sherlock reacted in a parallel manner as he pulled his scarf tighter around his neck and snapped his coat collar up. John groaned loudly and Sherlock fixed him with a perplexed expression.

“Can you not?” John sighed.

“What?”

“You being all mysterious with your cheekbones and turning your coat collar up so you look cool.”

“I don’t do that.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“It’s cold,” Sherlock said but it was a hollow statement. John just shrugged. “Anyway I’m…sorry that I didn’t stick around. You must have been incredibly bored without me.” Sherlock smiled a little and John just laughed and shook his head.

“Don’t get too full of yourself,” he warned. “I was just fine on my own.”

“Oh yes, do tell me about the wonders of Temple Run,” Sherlock teased.

“Maybe I will,” John said. Sherlock smiled again and John felt a sudden rush of warmth. “So what were you doing?”

“Running away from my brother, Mycroft,” Sherlock said. John raised an eyebrow in demand for further explanation. Sherlock sighed. “I may have stolen his cellular phone. He wasn’t too happy about it.” John laughed loudly and was rewarded by another smile from Sherlock.

Suddenly, slightly muffled voices from inside started yelling, “ _20! 19! 18!_ ”

John smiled to himself but Sherlock had developed a panicked look on his face. He started talking really quickly. “I’ve heard a lot of talk about this New Year’s tradition – well it’s sort of a tradition-“

_“17! 16! 15!”_

“Typically, almost revoltingly sappy couples are the only ones really to do it-“

_“14! 13! 12!”_

“But it’s wouldn’t be unheard of if-“

_“11! 10!”_

“And I don’t know I just thought it’d be nice if -“

 _“9! 8!_ ” The voices inside were getting frantic, the noise level had increased, and Sherlock was talking so fast that John had moved in as close as he could just in the hopes of catching everything Sherlock said.

“You know, instead of messing with my brother-“

_“7! 6!”_

“I had a New Year’s kiss.”

The countdown from inside had been so loud just moments ago, but now it just blended into background noise as John stared at Sherlock. He hadn’t been expecting this to say the least.

It was all an impulse driven on previously unknown inner desires that drove John to close the gap between himself and Sherlock, reaching his hands up to cup the boy’s face as he pulled him down into a long kiss. John closed his eyes and let his lips explain how he was feeling and from what he could tell Sherlock was doing the same, returning each of John’s actions with equal passion.

_“1!”_


End file.
